Decay (Book 2): Humanity (18 page)

As the semi climbed to the crest of the hill, it began to speed up. Then the Humvees came into view further up the four-lane road, just before it curved to the left. A man stood on top of the center truck, they couldn’t tell at first, but it was Bill. He raised a long tube, aiming carefully. Smoke burst from the rear of the tube and Mad Man Rob knew what was in flight.

With cars on either side of the semi, he couldn’t swerve without crushing at least one of them. The small missile blasted its way toward them on a deadly accurate path to the sinister chrome grille. But it never hit them. The Road Runner bolted out in front of the semi and veered into the path of the rocket. The yellow Road Runner blackened instantly as it burst into flames. A charred chunk of Rick’s torso spattered the black hood and windshield in front of Mad Man Rob and Michael.

The fiery remains of the Road Runner were swatted aside by the semi, and a path was cleared for the following cars.

Bill’s eyes widened as he saw the black monster charge toward him. The black smoke rolled from the stacks like a pissed off cartoon character spewing smoke from his ears. Only none of them saw the comedy in the demonic looking semi. Its smoke was hellsmoke and the roar of the big diesel engine was the devil’s battle cry.

The men standing around the Humvees scrambled to find safety inside the SUVs. Realizing that they wouldn’t move the trucks in time, Bill jumped out and ran to the other side of the highway. A few others followed. The fat kid who Bill hadn’t learned the name of was unable to climb out and away fast enough. The Semi had hit the center Humvee at sixty-three miles-per-hour. It was thrown into the Humvee to its left, smashing the fat kid in between. Oozing fat, blood, and guts splattered the street in gobs.

None of the three Humvees survived. The far right truck was clipped hard enough to smash the radiator, spraying coolant. Bill swore loudly and fired off several rounds from the M16 that was slung over a tall, muscular man’s back, the strap almost choking the muscular man. Darren, remaining disturbingly calm, walked to the only Humvee still on its tires and reached in for the radio.

“Damn it!” Mad Man Rob screamed after they had blown through the next intersection, he had the semi pushing eighty now. His wild hair made him look even crazier when he was mad.

“I’m sorry, Mad Man,” Michael said solemnly. “Rick was a great guy. He saved us. He saved them.” He nodded to the cars in the side mirror. “We can mourn him when we finish this.”

“How’s your brother doing back there?”

“Sleeping. Hopefully he’s fine.”

“How about you, Guillermo? How are you doing?”

“It’s been a rough ride, but I’m good.”

Dog whimpered lightly as if to reply that he was good but shaken up.

The Mad Man drove on, staying on the bypass. The entire road had been cleared after the once large group split up. Even for a while afterword they worked together. They were no longer one, but they stood by each other for the common good.
What the hell happened to us?
He slowed the semi down as he approached a strip mall off to the left just ahead of them.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked.

There were several miles between them and where they left Bill and his wrecked Humvees, but Michael wanted to put many more miles behind them before stopping.

The semi turned off the highway and onto a side street, following it back past a restaurant and a large hotel. The windows in the restaurant were busted out during the looting right after the attacks, and black soot marred the hotel’s white walls above several of the windows where survivors had stayed and set up small camp fires inside.

Turning right, Mad Man drove the semi up onto the curb and came to a stop. A grassy yard separated them from a strip mall to their right. On their left was a large clearing filled with untamed grass that wrapped around the hotel. The driver’s side door unlatched and swung open. Mad Man Rob grabbed a pistol that had been holstered in the upholstery of the door and hopped down onto the street. Michael held up his hand to Guillermo in a
wait here
gesture and followed his friend.

Spotty clumps of wet snow crunched under Michael’s boots as he walked first to the front, then to the rear of the semi. The bitter chill slapped his face as he turned, and he pulled his hood up over his head out of habit. He wasn’t sure where the Mad Man had gone, but he assumed he made a stop back by the others.

May leaned out of the passenger side window of the Little Red Express and waved Michael toward her. She pointed into the large clearing where Mad Man Rob was walking toward a deadie shambling about in the tall grass. “Keep an eye on him, we’ll go on ahead.”

Michael only nodded his understanding and stood back as the line of cars drove around the semi and reconnected with the highway.

The Yenko Camaro, driven by Aaron, seemed a little less peppy as it kept a steady pace at the back of the pack. Michael watched the Camaro and knew that the pain Mad Man Rob felt, Aaron felt even worse. Rick, who had been a born-and-raised Mopar guy who always gave Aaron a hard time about the boy’s Chevy, was the closest thing to a father Aaron had in this world.

Michael knew that Mad Man’s pain wasn’t just due to the loss of Rick. The Mad Man wasn’t one to be emotional, angry yes, but he took the loss of lives as just another part of being alive, even before the undead attacked. After spending many months on the move, it was hard to lose the closest thing to a home they had. Mad Man’s friends were his family, and that garage was his home, and it was gone now.

In the grassy field across the street, Mad Man easily took out the deadie before taking down two others that were unfortunate enough to come for him. With the three dead bodies sprawled in the tall grass, Mad Man Rob decided he wasn’t finished with them. He unsheathed a large hunting knife and began to stab them repeatedly.

Michael watched this ongoing act of rage for a minute. He found it morbidly entertaining to watch this man throw the dismembered body parts out into the grass. He didn’t sense any real threat in the area, so he decided to give Mad Man some time. The young man walked around the semi and off toward the small strip mall.

There were just a handful of shops in the little mall. The storefront windows were dusty, which Michael found to be a little odd. Most windows had been busted out during the looting that took place over the first few days of the attacks. Perhaps this place was too far out of the way for most people. Or maybe it’s because there was only one restaurant and none of the other stores carried anything necessary for survival.

Peering into the window of the restaurant, Michael could just make out the booths. He also saw what appeared to be an old jukebox. He used a gloved hand to wipe to thin layer of dust off the window and realized that most of it was on the inside. A film of grime and mildew coated the inside, so he would have to go in if he wanted to check the place out.

The door opened with a hard pull. It obviously hadn’t been opened in a long time. The smell of rot and death were overpowering. Michael pulled a scarf out from inside his coat and wrapped it tightly around his face to cover his nose and mouth. He made his way to the jukebox, but he really couldn’t see much as the windows were too tinted with grime to allow much light to shine in.

He decided to check out the rest of the small restaurant, and found the décor to be quite interesting. Pictures of 50’s style restaurants lined the walls. Underneath the dust he was sure the booths looked just like they did in those pictures. He would have really enjoyed coming here before the attacks.

He ventured through the kitchen area. The remains of food that had long ago rotted away and been consumed by the flies and maggots could still be seen in the stainless steel trays and bins. For a second he pushed the grotesque image of decay aside and imagined himself working here, the smell of the delicious food, the clambering of the customers as they carried on their lunchtime conversations. It was fun to think about, as he knew he would probably never have a job anywhere. Missing out on his teenage years cleaning tables for extra cash to blow with his friends was all of a sudden a little harder to deal with.

He picked up a dusty pad of paper used for taking orders. The edges were moldy. He bent the pad and allowed the pages to flip rapidly off his thumb before tossing it down on the counter. Casually, and out of habit, he checked under the counters, finding nothing.

At the back of the kitchen were a supply closet and a large walk-in freezer. The freezer door was open, and even in the dim light he could see that it was empty except for a few torn boxes. A steel chair had been wedged under the door handle to the closet. This was a clear sign that a deadie would be in there, but Michael had to check. Besides, he could easily take a deadie. He pulled his knife free and leaned close to the door.

There was no sound, but there were scratches on the door from where it rubbed against the chair. Perhaps the deadie behind the door was frozen. After all, it was damn cold in the restaurant. Even under the thick layers of clothing Michael could feel the chill snipping at his skin.

He picked up the chair and moved it to the side quietly. The door handle moved smoother than expected. Michael heard the soft click as the latch cleared and he gave the door a gentle pull. His breath held tightly.

The door burst open, smashing the young man in the face. He reacted quick enough to avoid a broken nose, but he could feel the pain explode in his cheek. Despite his disorientation, Michael was able to drive the blade into the skull of the dead man as he rushed through the door.

Before he could pull the blade free, two more deadies came out from the door, taking Michael by surprise. The first one, a short, thin woman with matted brown hair and gray eyes, bit down onto his arm. The bite was stopped by his thick coat, and he was able to push her back into the young girl behind her. The young girl was probably eleven or twelve and had the same matted brown hair as the woman. Michael assumed, in the brief moment he had to make assumptions, that they were mother and daughter.

The girl rushed around the woman and immediately took the bottom of Michael’s right boot to her face. Thick black blood oozed from her nose and left eye, but she was hardly slowed down.

Michael maneuvered back into the kitchen and managed to position himself with the preparation counter between him and the two deadies. This bought him time to catch his breath and think. He pulled the scarf down to his neck. Looking around he confirmed there wasn’t much left to use as a weapon. His best option was to run for the door and hope to reach Mad Man.

He turned to make his run for the door and collided with yet another deadie. The stocky dead man was like a wall, and Michael had no clue where he had even come from. Before Michael could stand, the dead man was down on top of him, and he could hear the other two making their way quickly toward him.

Two gunshots rang out and Michael watched as the young girl’s forehead burst open, splattering thick chunks of brain on the floor. Another shot was fired, and Michael heard what he hoped was the mother hitting the floor.

Then from nowhere Mad Man Rob straddled the deadie from behind, carefully wrapping his arm around the rotting neck in a sleeper hold. He pulled gently at first, only trying to relieve some of the pressure from Michael. Then he began pulling slightly harder. He felt the deadie slowly lifting up off of his young friend, but Michael gave out a horrified, yet brilliantly funny little scream that caused Mad Man Rob to let out a hard snort of laughter.

Michael spit and sputtered as the scream left his lips. “Getimoff!” he shouted in that still funny scream-voice that made Mad Man Rob laugh a bit harder.

The deadie’s dry flesh was starting to tear at the neck just under where Mad Man Rob was pulling. A sprinkle of thick maroon globs of blood spattered Michael’s face and neck. The deadie didn’t seem to mind. He continued his advances toward the teen and began punching into Michael’s ribs and stomach as soon as he was able to free one hand.

“Keep your eyes and mouth shut!” Mad Man Rob yelled, still laughing. He placed a knee into the lower back of the deadie and pushed down while pulling up with his arm still around the decaying neck. It took some twisting and a series of quick jerks before he could hear the bones grinding and the flesh tearing even further. He snapped the neck back and forth like a kid trying to eat a Laffy Taffy.

Blood spattered Michael as the head came off of the dead man. The stench caused him to vomit in his mouth before rolling over enough to allow the flood from his stomach to spray the dirty floor. A string of vertebra came out of the body, still attached to the base of the skull and slid across Michael’s face, tickling his ear. The fight left the dead man, and his body rolled to the floor. Michael kept his eyes shut tightly.

“Be careful in here,” Mad Man Rob stated as he stood above the teen. “Last time I was in here I locked three of these bastards in the supply closet.” This last statement came out in a hearty laugh as Mad Man examined the dead bodies on the floor.

Michael cleaned the area around his mouth on the inside of his coat and said, “Yeah, thanks for the heads up.”

Chapter 23

Jonathan dreamt. His dream was horrible. The world was black. Not dark, but the whole world was void of anything. There was only nothingness and silence.

He watched as his father moved away from him. Jonathan tried to scream, either to alert him of danger or just so his father knew he was there, he didn’t know for sure which. There was no sound. He screamed until his chest and throat hurt. No sound, but pain.

Jonathan tried to run after the man, but tripped over something he couldn’t see. He did everything he could to claw his way forward, to reach his father before he lost him again, yet there was no moving from his spot in the blackness. His muscles ached in his legs, arms, and back as he strained to move forward.

A loud click came from behind him, and he felt whatever invisible force that held him in place tighten. Another loud click and he slid back several inches. He had been here before, so he knew what to expect when he turned around. The monster would be turning the crank on a large reel. The clicking rang out as the pin for the safety latch dropped into each tooth.

Click
!

He was pulled several more inches back. His instincts told him not to look, not to see the grotesque figure with the top of its head missing, the monster that would surely devour him. He knew this monster, it was his guilt, his rage, and he knew he had to face it.

Click
!

Jonathan turned to his back and prepared to jump at the hideous beast, but froze in place. Emalynn stared at him coldly as she turned the crank, drawing him in now with her stunning brown eyes. She looked like an angel to him, a subtle glow surrounded her, and she wore a white dress made from what looked like simple linen.

The front of her dress was stained red with the blood that pumped from her chest. Her heart had been ripped out, veins and arteries hung down like strings in tattered clothing, pouring blood down her body. The glow that emanated from her began to fade, and her soft tan skin started to gray. Her eyes rolled back in her head and oozed a thick white soup.

She towered over Jonathan as she stepped toward him. He lay frozen to the floor, unable to move. She turned her gaze past him as a flame burst into existence in this dead world. Her expression conveyed a grim pleasure at what she saw.

Straining, Jonathan was able to turn his head enough to see that the flame wasn’t a flame at all. It was Laikynn’s radiant red hair. She hung by her neck from her intestines. They had been ripped from her stomach. Most of her insides lay in a pile at her feet. She squirmed and fought to free herself as her life slipped away, but it was futile.

Jonathan wanted nothing more than to save her, to comfort her until her pain subsided. He looked toward the cold, pale skinned Emalynn and it hit him; she was gone, but Laikynn was still out there somewhere. He had to get back to her.